


First Night

by procrastinator



Category: Henry V - Shakespeare, The Hollow Crown (2012), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinator/pseuds/procrastinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A princess, now a queen, makes her way into a new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night

Catherine waited at her window, looking out the window and across the gardens. There was enough moon light that she could still see the shapes of the trees and flowering bushes. The fires were lit and she could see a few silent couples in the gardens looking for dark corners and happy chances. Her wedding feast had been a splendid celebration and she was sure that the endless drink and sweets has worked their magic on much of the party. She, however, was nervous at what lay ahead. She was now Queen of England, wed to a new husband she barely knew, and she had the unfathomable task of producing a line of kings for two countries. She had to win over a new court as a foreigner, which could not be done until she could learn to speak English. And she had to make it through her first night as a married woman.

Her nurse has only recently left her, telling her she would tell the guard that Henry, her husband, could come as he wished. Those last few moments with her lifelong protector had left her uneasy. Her nurse had been married only briefly as a very young woman, barely 15, who was widowed before the mark of one year of marriage. Catherine felt lucky that she was older, 18 herself, and that her father had not given her to someone sooner. She felt more ready than she had seen other girls she had grown with. They had gone to their husbands barely bloomed, with thin hips and tiny breasts. Some of them had suffered and died already in childbirth. Although she was nervous about many parts of being a wife, she at least felt confident that he would feel she looked as she aught, like a woman and not a child.

She tugged at her braid, wondering if she should leave it in or let her hair down. She wasn’t sure what her new husband would like and as she weighed her thoughts and chewed her lip, she finally decide that he could choose for himself. In the short days since she had met Henry, he had proved himself quite able to say what he wanted. It had been only twelve days since they had first really met, a confused and amiable moment translated by her nurse in which she agreed to marry him. He had defied her fashions and kissed her and in his kiss she thought he might woo better than any Frenchman who had more words and more poems to court her. 

It had not been the only kiss. She had walked the halls of the castle, strolled the gardens, and the paths by the river in hopes that she would see him every day. And every day he had appeared. On many of those days, he had been able to separate her from the party, if only briefly, to steal another kiss or some close words. Despite his claim that he was now a hardened soldier-king, she could still see a twinkle in his eye of the mischievous youth her father had sounded on about. He would duck her away from her nurse, and she felt herself warm at the memory of his hands on her elbows and her waist, his lips lightly pressed against hers. In the hours since their marriage, he had only taken his rights to kiss her openly a few times, each time his hesitation obvious to her. She wondered if it was even possible that such a great king could be made nervous by the prospect of a wife. He could not be ignorant of what to do with a woman, not given the stories she had heard of his impetuous and impertinent youth. Maybe, she proposed, he was nervous because he told her the truth. He truly did love her.

She was startled from her thoughts by the chink of the door lock. She steadied herself and turned, not knowing what to expect. He was there, still in his velvet coat and pants. She liked that he was never the most well dressed man in the room, despite his stature. He did not need jewels and fine things to have the room; he had it because it was his. Her hands suddenly felt unsure of where to be and they drifted the length of her dressing gown. She has never been in the presence of anyone but her nurse, her mother, and her sisters in such a state. She was very aware of the thin shift, her nakedness underneath, and how perfectly...accessible she was to him. She wondered if he would want it off.

“How now my lady?” he asked, keeping his stance by the door, coming no closer. He had again that nervous look about him and he stood with a sense of pause. 

“I am well my lord,” she replied, dropping her eyes from his bottomless gaze. He made no move to come further into her chamber. She wondered if the English were really this polite. Should she invite him in? He did seem to care what she wanted. Her father all but bargained her in his treaty to keep his throne until his death. And yet, Henry wooed her, asked her, begged her to consent. “Will you come in husband?” she asked quietly, stepping aside as to show him her bed, ready for them.

She watched his eyes wash over the new red silks she had ordered to be draped over the canopy. Her husband wore red into battle, it was the color of his country, and it would be the color of the marriage bed. Suddenly she stopped, terrified at the realization of her insinuation. She would lose herself to him that night, it was the utmost fear in her mind. Her nurse had warned her of the terrible pain that every wife must endure and of the eventual evidence that she must let lie where ever it may fall. Red was the color of the night, and she felt ashamed to have forgotten such a thing in her haste to make him feel welcome in her chamber.

But Henry did not seem to think on it. As his eyes settled on the bed, perhaps he finally envisioned them there together, because at last he turned and came towards her. First he grasped her hands, but quickly his touch moved up her arms to her face and he stepped closer. She felt her breath quicken as she saw the look in his eye, the same as the first time he had kissed her. Their subsequent kisses had been giddy and hidden, or grave and resolved, such as in front of the priest, but their first kiss had shown her his longing. And he had said she had witchcraft in her lips, so he might become addicted to their touch and flavour. 

Now his kiss began soft, but quickly she felt his urgency. His arm wrapped around her waist and held her close and she could feel his grip bunching her nightdress tightly. When he finally released her, they were both a bit short of breath, but he did not let her go.

“Shall we to bed Kate?” he asked softly, his fingers buried in her hair and his thumb softly grazing her cheek. She simply nodded her consent and he seemed to reluctantly let her go. They parted to either side of the bed and Kate silently slipped between the sheets, her eyes never leaving him and unsure of how to proceed. She watched as he stood by the side of the bed, his eyes also attached to hers. He had already left his crown before he came to her, but his ceremonial belt and sword he left now against the wall. He turned to sit on the bed with his back towards her and Kate felt a wash of nerves as she listened to him remove his boots and toss them aside. He walked almost silently in bare feet to a nearby chair and deposited his leggings and his velvet coat. Then in his shirt tail, he came back and slid in beside her.

He turned towards her and she him. He opened his mouth to speak and then quickly turned to blow out the candle on his bedside table. They were left with only the fire light and Catherine was glad for it. She wasn’t sure how much embarrassment she could endure all at once. The cover of darkness was welcome. She turned on her back, not knowing at all how such things began between a man and woman, but being sure that it was his initiative to begin. She would wait. She felt the weight of the mattress shift beneath them and the warmth of his body approaching her. She felt him push the covering back slightly so that she was exposed from the waist up. She could not meet his eye.

“Are you frightened?” he said softly. “I would not wish you to be.”

She finally met his gaze and there she found the soft, pleadingly soulful man who had begged for her hand. He did not seem resolved to force her or to take something she was not ready to give. And yet she was ready, she would never be more ready unless she were to spend years getting to know him. 

“I am not frightened, my lord,” she replied. “But...I am only a maid…”

“No,” he said, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from her face, “you are no longer a maid. You are a wife. You are a queen.”

She blushed profusely. Technically she was a queen and a wife, but she was still a maid. If he did not begin his advance soon, she might still be one in the morning. But he came closer, until he was at her side, pressed closer, and leaning over her.

“May I kiss you my queen?” he asked softly, still holding her eye intently. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she simply nodded. There had already been kisses, that was no new thing. A brief smile crossed his lips, and then he descended to her, capturing her in as sweet a kiss as he had ever given her. 

His one kiss turned into many, each a bit longer than the previous. She tried to match his pace, to meet him each time he reached for her. When he pulled back, she searched his face for signs of disappointment.

“Kate,” he said, quietly, his fingers again playing with her hair, “my darling, I will always be good to you.” She nodded in response, sensing he wanted a confirmation that she understood. But it was more than that. He remained unsatisfied.

“I understand,” she said, her voice almost a whisper he was so close.

“Yes,” he replied, “but do you believe me? Do you believe I am telling you the truth?”

“Oui,” she replied, slipping her hand up his shoulder and tugging him towards her. Maybe he wanted her to encourage him. “I believe you,” she repeated, “I believe you love me.”

“I do,” he sighed. “You are the fairest creature I have ever known and I only want to make you happy. I will leave the rest of the cares of the kingdom outside your door and here we will be together only in love.”

“My lord,” she whispered, confused at his need to declare what he had already declared many times over, “you must tell me what you want.”

At this he smiled and seemed to relax more. “Kate,” he whispered, leaning forward so that his nose slide against hers in a small affectionate nuzzle, “I want to kiss you.” At this he gripped her side just below her breast and pulled her even closer, descending in a kiss that was harder and wetter than any he had given her. It stole her wits and when he withdrew for breath, she felt dizzy. But he left her little time to reclaim her thoughts before another kiss began and this time, she felt him tug her bottom lip between his teeth. When she gasped in surprise he kissed her again and his tongue slid softly between her lips. 

She had been wrong. Kisses could still be a new thing, because these new kisses were not designed for hallways or gardens or the feast table. They were designed for the private moments between lovers and she felt as if he was beckoning her forth, to join him in some thoughtless abandon. She could feel his passion rising as he kissed her and the stirring in her belly made her think perhaps she liked it as well. He was so soft with her, his hands ghosting over her frame, his tongue caressing hers. She found herself sighing and curling into him, letting his tall body cover her. She enjoyed the feeling of his weight against her. She felt solid and planted and safe beneath him in their bed.

The intensity of his kisses lessened slightly and she realized that he was now engaged in another project. He had reached below and was pulling up on her night gown. She lifted her body, knowing full well that he could have her naked if he pleased. 

“Can we have this off please?” he whispered, bunching the fabric against her hips, his fingertips lightly stroking the warm skin of her thigh. He seemed captured by it and his hand spread flat to touch her more. 

She swallowed hard. He was making no effort to hide his arousal from her and she had felt him spike when his hand first palmed her skin. He felt very hard and now quite big. She was starting to understand what the nurse had alluded to. But still, he was entitled.

“Of course my lord,” she replied, raising herself up in the bed and lifting her arms above her head. He eagerly responded to her, sitting up himself to work the chemise over her head. But before he continued, his fingers fell upon her braid and unwound it, as she has suspected he might. She was glad; she could always cover herself a bit with her hair if she felt she needed to.

She could not, of course, see him when the fabric slipped over her head, but she heard him gasp lightly. He could not tear his eyes away as he dropped her gown over the side of the bed. “My god Kate,” he whispered, his eyes locked on her form, “you are truly beautiful.”

She smiled shyly, arching her back and hunching her shoulders a bit to try and shield herself from the intensity of his gaze. But he would not let her. “No,” he said quickly, grabbing her elbow and pressing her into the bed, “lay down wife and let me look at you.”

She did as he commanded, letting her eyes wash away as his traveled down her form. His hand followed his eyes, beginning at her throat. His fingers trailed down between her breasts, until his hat flattened and gathered one of the soft pillows of flesh in his palm. He lifted it and squeezed it gently and Kate struggled to remain silent. Instead she bit her lip because she had not imagined that her breasts would ever feel like that. She knew that they were for feeding children and that men liked them for their own reasons, but she did not realize they might bring her pleasure. Henry’s hand moved again and she heard him groan slightly as her nippled hardened under his touch. The sensation was exhilarating and she could see in his eyes he was pleased with her body. She knew he would be surprised by her womanly form; the corset did a decent job of hiding her from the eyes of men. 

His hand traveled further, fluttering over her stomach before gripping her thigh. She knew his eyes were now trained on the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs. She was very comfortable for him to kiss her and now to touch her breasts, but his eventual descent to her most private areas made her body wash with nerves again. She feared that it would hurt, that she would displease him, that this would not work between them. And it must work, she must give him his children.

“Kate,” he whispered, pulling her from her thoughts, “will you let me kiss you again?”

She smiled, amused that he kept asking for what he could rightfully take. She liked his new kisses, they made her tingle all over, and it occurred to her that if he kissed her while he did his other business he might distract her enough for it be less painful. “Oui,” she smiled, running her fingers through his hair. He returned her smile, raising himself over her, and again she felt his hardness press into her thigh. Now it seemed even bigger than before. She lifted her head, ready to receive him, but he paused. 

“Will you let me kiss you where ever I want?” he murmured. His eyes caught her and she saw the question was true; if she said no, he would stop. And although she knew she could not stop, and that he was being very kind and going very slow, she wanted to show him that she could do more than just lay there. The nurse had told her she must please him, and what she wanted more than anything was to make him feel how she had when he had touched her.

She grasped at his dressing gown, hanging down above her. “My lord,” she replied, “will you take this off?” His face warmed and relaxed. He rolled away from her and began to struggle to untangle the gown from his long legs. She giggled and reached to help him pull it over his head and in the struggle the bed cover fell away and she saw, quite clearly in the low light, what exactly awaited her between his legs. She averted her eyes almost immediately. It was too much to dwell on or her fear would overtake her.

He tossed his gown aside and resumed his position over her, this time lowering himself gently until their chests were touching and the warmth of their skin combined. Despite the heat of their bodies and the warmth of the air, Kate felt her skin shiver and goose pimple. Now she was naked and pressed against her naked husband; it wouldn’t be long.

Henry nuzzled against her until she turned her attention back to him and his kisses began again. This time, pressed against him, his kisses were even more dizzying and she felt the little sighs and moans were harder to keep in. She began to suspect that she wasn’t supposed to be silent, because each time one escaped, Henry echoed her and gripped her tighter. The tingle in her body now seemed to reach her toes and she felt the oddest sensation between her legs. It felt almost like an ache, but it was not painful. On the contrary it was more pleasurable that she could have imagined.

She had little time to reflect upon it as Henry abruptly changed their position. He slid one arm behind her gathering her towards him and with his free hand, he reach down and grabbed her behind her knee, pulling her leg over his hip. She gasped in surprise because now she felt him, solid and thick, between her legs. He moaned her name and kissed her harder. The length of him was pressed up against the soft parts of her folds and the sensation of his warm, throbbing flesh made the ache inside her surge to a new level. With it came a new feeling of warmth and pulsing inside her and she could feel something liquify inside her and begin to drip down. She pulled away from his kiss, confused and distracted, but he did not seem to notice. 

Instead, his kisses moved first to her cheek, then her jaw, and then her ear. His teeth played lightly with her skin and he left small kisses on the flesh just below and behind her ear. It caused her to groan and she could feel him smile against her. He began to focus his attention there with kisses and nips and brushes of his tongue. His hand slid up her side and gathered her breast, again massaging and caressing her to such an extent that the warm, wetness between her legs seem to burst forth yet again. 

She felt her breath and her heartbeat go faster, and she closed her eyes, trying to maintain some calm. Now things were moving quickly, he was more demanding, and she could do nothing but surrender to his desires. She could feel her nipples tightening further under his touch and he began to move his kisses again, this time down her throat. They followed the familiar path of his fingertips, trailing between her breasts. Suddenly the strength of his hand was replaced by the warmth and wetness of his mouth and Kate audibly gasped to realize that he had taken the bud of her breast into her mouth. 

All of her thoughts left her mind as he suckled intently at her breast. This she had never imagined in her wildest dreams. The washing of his tongue over her now hot skin felt better than anything she had ever experienced. At the same time, he began to move between her legs, gripping her hips and pulling her firmly against the thick hardness of his cock. Instinctively, she moved her hips in response, pushing herself against him, and he growled at her breast and gripped her tighter. The combination of these two actions made the seeping warmth between her legs swell even more and this time she felt the trickle escape her inner lips and begin to moisten her entire center. She blushed furiously at the realization, no matter how much she enjoyed it, that he might soon know her body’s strange reaction.

Sooner than she had anticipated, his hand moved between them. He shifted away from her slightly and she whimpered at the removal of what she had really begun to enjoy grinding herself against. But as his fingers ghosted through the soft curls, she held her breath, waiting for the immanent moment when he discovered the effect he had on her. He had given up at her breasts, both buds worried to tender nubs and his lips were again at her throat. His hand first gently cupped the entirety of her sex, holding her folds gently in his palm. He did not relent in his kisses, although she was sure he could tell that her entire focus was on his hand. His gripped tightened surely against her and she gasped as he squeezed her center in his palm. She felt a great trickle release from inside her and she covered her face with her arm, ashamed that it was now dripping down into his hand.

But Henry did not seem bothered by this. On the contrary, his lips paused against her throat and she could feel his panting breaths cover her body. “Oh Kate,” he whispered, his voice full of tremor, “oh my lady, you are wet.” His fingers parted and she gasped and grasped his shoulder as one of his fingers slid down into her slit, parting her lips and drawing up the length. “Oh wife,” he moaned, “you are dewy and stirred for your husband.”

She blinked herself awake from the stupor his touch provoked. She was greatly confused and as he pushed himself up above her he must have seen it in her face. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see her face and his wrist moved to push her legs apart. She spread them obediently and immediately he ran two fingers together over the soft flesh, bathing them in the wetness that had accumulated. She tried to silence her gasp and he must have seen her cheeks darken. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her gently, pulling at her lips with the same softness as her stroked her most tender area.

“You are as you should be,” he whispered, “I am very pleased.”

“You are?” she whispered in reply, arching her back in surprise as one of his soaked fingers began to concentrate his touch at the very top of her sex. She tried to control her breath, but she was distracted by the warm look on his face. His gaze was now thick with a passion she had not seen before. His touch began to make her writhe against him as he found one place that seemed to light her center on fire. “Oh my lord,” she gasped, her hand shooting out and gripping the bedsheet.

He leaned forward again, his kisses trailing up her jaw. He paused at her ear. “Yes Kate,” he murmured, “you should be ready for your husband in this way. Your ripeness will make it all the better. As such, I take my pains.” He left a small kiss behind her ear. “I said I would always be good to you,” he murmured.

“Henry,” she gasped softly, her body now seeming to not respond to her brain. His fingertip had settled on the spot and was moving in soft circles and she could not stop her sex from responding to him. She grew slicker and warm inside, she felt full and empty at the same time. She felt sensitive, but as if she could not get enough of his touch. She was starting to feel a pressure build below her belly. She could hear now the sound of his fingers moving against her through her moistened flesh and while it embarrassed her profoundly, it sent him moaning and nibbling on her neck. His touch was now almost too much, and her thighs clamped shut around his hand without her willing them to.

She closed her eyes with slight trepidation that he would be angry at her interruption, but instead she felt him withdraw and move above her again. He lay himself atop of her and using his knees, he parted her legs and settled himself between them. In this process, she felt again the length of him pressing against her hip and her curiosity overwhelmed her. As he settled himself and sought out her lips, she reached between them and trailed her fingers up his shaft, from bottom to tip. He lost his strength over her for a moment and whimpered into her kiss. So she did it again and again he panted into her mouth. She flicked her wrist and turned her palm, able to wrap her whole hand around him and he dropped her kiss entirely, moaning loudly. She could see the pleasure cross his face and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

He felt so full and solid in her hand; she could barely make her thumb and forefinger touch. She held him for a moment and she did not know what to do now that she had him. He moved his hips slightly, thrusting a tad so that her hand slid up his length and she understood. She stroked her hand slowly and he collapsed to one side, pressing his face into her chest as her hand moved over him. He moaned her name and she felt, for the first time, the possibility of the power she might have between them. He would still set the pace, but she could also make him tremble in her arms with pleasure. 

She noticed that her strokes suddenly seemed easier and a sticky wetness has gathered in her hand. While she was concerned, she did not stop as her king was now gripping her sides tightly and panting against her breasts. It did not seem to bother him. She sought out the source of this and ran her hand up and over the head of his cock. He groaned, almost as if he was in pain, but urged her on. She discovered his tip weeping into her hand and when she squeezed her palm closed around it, he went slack against her momentarily before shaking his head and pulling away.

“Enough my love,” he panted, “enough, or we will end before we begin.” She had no idea what he meant but she frowned as he pulled away, worried that he had displeased him. He smiled down at her pouting face and she relaxed. “Enough for now, my love,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her, “but I will let my queen have her fun another time.”

She must have looked confused because he chuckled slightly into her kiss, before he began to move down her neck again. Have her fun? she wondered. If touching him made him feel at all as she felt when he touched her, than it was his fun they were discussing, not hers. Although, she considered as he licked her nipples softly and she sighed at the now familiar and happy warmth, perhaps the fun was in reducing one’s partner to a pool of desire. He had done it to her and now she had done it to him. She felt much more relaxed at this prospect.

She wondered when he would begin, he seemed to be in the position to do so, but his kisses were now traveling farther down than they had before. He left hot wet streaks across her ribs, dipped his tongue into her navel, and before she knew it his face was paused above her curls. She gasped her shock, not realizing that when she agreed to let him kiss her everywhere that he would truly take this much. He looked up at her from between her legs, a smile on his lips, and then he dropped his head and began to kiss the inside of her thighs. It felt warm and soft and lovely and it made her nervous and terrified. He wasn’t going to actually take her in his mouth, would he?

Although this was the one thing she had heard of. Her oldest sisters gossiping in the garden as they did their embroidery sometimes spoke of this, how it was the only source of pleasure in one’s dealings with a husband. She had forgotten about this, and she thought now that they were wrong. She had surely enjoyed everything Henry had done with her so far, but this she was less sure of. He was now using his tongue, dancing over the outer flesh, and she covered her face with her hands, terrified of his pressing forward, even though he had been so pleased to find her so wet.

Suddenly she felt his tongue slip in between her outer lips and tickle the tenderest flesh in side. She gasped loudly and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth, ashamed as she heard Henry chuckle between her legs. His hands pushed her thighs further apart and she was sure she was all exposed to him at this point, but his chuckle melted into a groan. His tongue came again, licking top to bottom, and he moaned. Again he lapped at her, this time circling her tenderest spot with his tongue. She whimpered and moaned, lifting her hips to his face. His hands wrapped around her hips and pushed them to the bed, but he laid himself out between her legs and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder. His tongue went again and again and Kate felt the seeping grow stronger and stronger, the ache inside her pummeling her will and her need. She wanted something more from him and she felt, for the first time, ready.

But her husband was not yet ready himself. He moaned with each wet spread of his tongue. He dropped his tongue farther until it pressed against the most intimate of places, the place that would only ever be his. He seemed to move so surely and soft, and when he withdrew slightly, she reached down to grab his hair, not wanting him to give up so quickly. 

“Ah Kate,” he growled into her center, “oh sweet honied wife. God, you do me over woman.” She did not understand what he meant at all, but it did not matter because his tongue probed further, deeper, into her core and she arched her back off the bed in response. He removed himself all too soon, lapping up to the top of her sex and sucking the small bud of pleasure into his mouth much the way he did the bud of her breast. She writhed on the bed, panting, and unable to control her gasps and sighs. He sucked gently until she had to push on his head because it felt too much. She became too sensitive even for the softness of his mouth. 

He grinned up at her, his lips wet in the fire light, and he began to drop kisses up her belly. When he reached her lips he kissed her deeply and she tremored at the realization that the tongue now coaxing its way into her mouth had only just moments before been coaxing its way into her most intimate area. Henry, she could clearly tell, loved all of it. He was harder between her legs than ever before. She spread her legs around his hips, feeling that the moment had finally arrived.

“Are you ready wife?” he asked gently, looking into her eyes. He must have seen her trepidation because he leaned down to kiss her sweetly before continuing. “It will hurt,” he said quietly, “but hopefully only for a minute. You are sufficiently ready for a man, it should ease the way.”

She nodded silently, torn between the aching feeling inside her that sensed that this was what she wanted and the fear she felt in her heart at how it might rip her open from the inside out. He kissed her again before reaching his hand between them. For the first time since they began, she felt his hesitation, his own nerves. He fumbled for a moment, grasping himself and sliding down and then up her body. Finally, she felt the hot tip of his cock wash through her folds. She sucked in a breath as his eyes fluttered close. “There,” he whispered, dropping his head to her shoulder for a moment as he ran himself back and forth, covering himself in her wetness. “Oh Kate,” he sighed, “you are a puddle of silk.”

She shook her head. Silk was a fabric and water on the ground lay in puddles. She was neither, but she chalked it up to English idioms. She wished now that he would just get on with it. In the next second she had her wish. She felt him slide down until his tip rested just at the ridge of her soaked entrance. He paused and looked into her eyes. With a slight shift, she felt him push forward.

At the first, it felt good. He stretched her entrance and that ache inside her finally found a bit of relief. But then he kept going and the more he stretched her, the fuller she felt. She felt grateful that he had taken pains to make her so wet; there was no wrenching of skin as there had been when the doctor examined her to ensure her virginity. But Henry was much bigger than a doctor’s finger, much bigger, and the further he pressed the more she was sure he would not fit. She held her breath because although it seemed to drag on, it took a mere second before he paused. She sensed that he had reached the barrier and he took the moment to stop and search her eyes. “Are you ready my love?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and gripped his forearms, her hands trembling with nerves. Henry kissed her forehead and then, without looking at her again, he pushed forward much faster, breaking through her wall and sheathing himself entirely inside her.

She tried not to cry out, but she yelped none the less. It was a seizing, pinching sort of pain, like she was being torn open. Which, she realized as she gasped through the pain, she was. But it was his right as her husband to do so. The initial seizing faded and she was left with a throbbing ache that completely supplanted the previous one. How devious of her body, she thought, to have one pain that wants him so that this other may take over.

He had stilled above her, but she could feel him shaking against her, his lips trembling at her temple. This must be difficult she thought, realizing that he must want to move inside her. She knew that was the source of his pleasure. And yet he waited. She took a few more deep breaths, and when the pain had dulled substantially, she relaxed herself underneath him and he took it as a sign.

“My love,” he whispered, kissing the side of her head, and she nodded against him. She felt him withdraw a little and push back, the pain resurging again, although quite less. He went again and it was less, and then again till it was less even more. Before she knew it, he was moving quite easily inside her, his breath hot against neck.

She let her eyes drift briefly to the canopy above her. The fabric shifted ever so slightly with the bed and each small movement matched the feeling of Henry pushing into her. She took a deep breath to steady her mind and her heart, but it caused her to arch her back and press her breasts into his chest. She felt him grunt and shake in her arms and drop a bit more of his weight onto her. His thrusts felt steady and warm inside her and she tightened her grip on his arms as she realized that there was no more pain, no more feeling of being stretched. Now there was only a hot, wet, pulsing feeling building inside her, a desire that only his presence and his movement seemed to quench at all. 

He had lowered his head next to hers, his lips and tongue playing lightly where her neck met her shoulder. She sighed as quietly as she could, not sure how much she was supposed to let him see. Her nurse had been quite firm; this was for the pleasure of her husband and, god willing, for the blessing of a child. She had never said anything about the pleasure of the wife, but Catherine was beginning to think that if she let him, Henry would give her as much as he could. 

Her legs spread wider without her intention and his slow, gentle prodding of her started to feel like teasing. She felt her hips lift of the bed, her mind unable to focus on doing anything on purpose. She only chased him and his efforts, following his lead, wanting as much of him as she could get. He slowed slightly and she whimpered. She needed to say something and she could not think of the English.

“Plus,” she gasped quietly against his shoulder, immediately biting her lip to silence herself. He stopped completely inside her and she could feel his deep breaths as his chest and stomach expanded against her. He pushed up on his elbows and then his hands, and she found herself shrinking under the intensity of his gaze.

“My lady?” he asked quietly, and she thought she could sense a tension in him, as if to be still inside her was the most difficult thing he had ever done. And yet, she thought to herself, he does it.

She didn’t want him to be still and she didn’t want him to go so slow. But she didn’t know how, or even if, she could say it, if she could demand such a thing from him. So she lifted her legs higher around his hips and slid her hands gently down his sides and to the small of his back. She tugged firmly towards her. “Plus,” she whispered, taking deep breaths to steady herself, “plus fort.” 

She watched his jaw tighten and his eyes darken above her. He shifted a little bit inside her, his weight tilting as he lifted one hand free from under her. He ran his fingers through her hair and then trailed down her neck, spreading over her throat and her collarbone before his warm palm cupped her breasts and his thumb grazed over her tight nipple. “Harder,” he said just as quietly as her, his voice tight and yet soft at the same time, as if they were telling secrets.

Yes, she thought, he understands. She nodded, lifting her hips against him and watching his eyes flutter closed for only a moment. “Oui,” she half begged, “harder. Please.”

When he opened his eyes again, the darkness was still there and she felt nervous and excited for what ‘harder’ meant to him. He leaned down to kiss her again, and he used his lips and tongue to distract her as she felt him move over her. He pushed his hands flat along the bed, sliding them under her shoulders until he was balanced above her on his elbows. He kisses were relentlessly but she felt him lift his hips, moving out of her slightly, and then his thighs pressed against the back of hers, forcing her legs up around his waist. She locked her feet against one another and she felt him settle his weight, pushing back into her. 

He gave her a few more kisses and then he lifted his head to watch her face. He pushed twice the same as before and then on the third, she felt him land inside her with more force. Her mouth fell open and her neck arched, a gasp escaping from her throat. He went again and she panted out a sigh that made him grunt ‘yes’ under his breath. Then his rhythm began, his thrusts not only harder but faster. She felt the intensity of him inside her like lightning and the pleasure moved through the whole of her center and her belly. She felt a pressure inside her build and then her walls twitched, fluttering around him for just a second. She didn’t know what was happening, not that she could think with him panting above her and moving insider her. But he seemed to know.

“Oh Kate,” he moaned, pressing his forehead into hers as he went even a bit faster. She held on to his sides and he moved over her, his kisses landing on her lips, her cheek, her throat. She tried to control the sounds that wanted to break from her throat, the little gasps and moans and cries. Her fingers tightened into the muscles of his back and she could feel his body working to be inside her in just the right way. The feel of his hot skin and hard muscles mesmerized her and she ran her hands everywhere trying to feel more. 

Now he was mumbling against her throat, his words unfamiliar. She heard her name, she heard him call for god, she heard a few words she recognized, things like ‘tight’ and ‘wet’ and ‘perfect.’ She heard things she was sure were the vulgar things that men said to each other, but now they just told her how much he was lost inside of her. 

Just as she was beginning to wonder how long he could do this for, she felt the pressure build inside her again and this time the little twitch of her walls was not enough to offer a moment of relief. It kept getting stronger and she clenched her body around him, feeling as if he didn’t hold her down she would surely explode and float away. Her hands crept down far enough that before she knew it she was holding on to his backside as he thrust in and out of her. The feeling of him in her hands as he pushed into her just made the pressure inside her ignite like a flame.

Now she knew she couldn’t stop it. Whatever he was going to do, whatever he would make her do, was going to happen. Each thrust pushed her higher, moving her faster towards what she could only imagine was total dissolution. She would fall apart beneath him and he would wonder why he’d married such an infirm woman. 

“Henry!” she gasped, his lips resting just above hers as he grunted and pushed her even harder. She could feel the sweat forming on his back and on her body as well. His entire body was rigid in her arms, but she didn’t know what to do.

“Come now Kate,” he grunted, one hand reaching back and grabbing her thigh, “come quickly wife.” He lifted her leg higher and suddenly the force of him landing between her thighs, against her folds, and inside her body felt like it would break her apart. His thrusts slowed into long, hard strokes, and the coiling, burning pleasure inside her spread a warmth throughout her entire body, curling her fingers and her toes. She felt her hips buck, needed him as deep inside her as she could possibly reach, and then her entire core started to move for him. She gasped a silent breath that stuck in her chest as she felt her whole inside clench around him and flutter in torturous waves as her hips met his over and over and he drove into her till he himself cried out her name and fell upon her.

She could feel their sex pulsing against each other. Her center throbbed around him and he twitched and burst inside her. When her mind cleared a bit after the initial euphoria, she thought he must be releasing his seed. He was groaning and panting against the pillow, his head rocking back and forth and she could feel his hot breath against the skin of her shoulder. His hips still pushed, wanting to be deep insider her, and his thighs trembled against her. She felt a warmth inside her that had not been there before; it was not the friction of him moving, it was something hot that was seeping through her. Dear god, she thought, give me his son.

He lay quiet above her, trying to catch his breath. She wondered if he could feel her heart against his chest. It had never beat like this, not even after running the length of the orchards on her father’s lands. It was wild in her chest, fast, erratic, forcing her to take deep gasping breaths. Only Henry, she thought to herself, can make me feel like this. The thought of what she and her husband were able to do made her tighten her legs around him again and he groaned softly. She felt him push his arms underneath her and gather her close, and then he rolled onto his side, bringing her with him and holding her tight.

He rest his forehead against hers, his breath still quick, and she ran her hands over him, trying to calm him down. She could feel his heart racing as well and it calmed her to know that it wasn’t just her. Slowly his hands started to move over her again and he left small kisses across her face. They were quiet for a long time, only soft kisses and touches and sighs. Eventually she felt him soften inside of her and her body seemed to push him out. She felt empty without him and she furrowed her brow as she felt a trickle of warmth run down from inside of her and over the back of her thigh. She lifted her head in confusion, but his face was placid, his eyes closed, his breaths steady and deep. Her husband was asleep, as he was supposed to be after he spent himself inside of her. That her nurse was right about. His body was still tangled in hers and she couldn’t remove herself without disturbing him. So, she dropped her head, reminding herself that she was supposed to let the blood gather on the sheets. Someone, some person who felt very far outside of the warm knot of limbs that she shared with Henry, would probably want to see and be certain that she had given herself to him and only him. Now that it was done, she could not imagine giving herself to anyone else.

 

Waking was, at first, as familiar as any other day. The day was still early, the light was low. The air in the room felt cool given the earliness of the hour, but as she lay awake, she soon heard the nearly silent bustle of the maid and the fire roared to life across the room. The door clicked as quietly as possible as she left and she felt Henry stir behind her. At some point in the night they had rolled into a cocoon. His front was pressed up against her back, her legs tangled with his, his arms locked around her. She had awoken with her head sandwiched between his bicep and his chest, his face buried in her hair. She could feel his steady breaths against her head. She could also feel the slight movement, rising and falling, of his length against her backside. She did not know that men could do that in their sleep. She thought his desire would have been spent.

Slowly he stirred more and more until she heard him take a deep, sharp breath and he was awake. She enjoyed that part, laying in his arms while he slept. He stretched and groaned behind her as she turned towards him. She could not stop herself from her hand up his side, feeling his ribs, and then the strength of his chest. He smiled and bent over her, kissing her lips gently. “Good morning Kate,” he said happily. She was about to return his smile, but he pulled away and threw back the covers, leaping out of bed. She was suddenly face to face with her husbands backside as he stretched his arms above his head and yawned loudly.

She was slightly disappointed as he set off across the room. She had been hoping not to interrupt the closeness of their time together so soon. She didn’t want to go back to wandering the halls with her maids, wondering when he would come to see her. She was distracted from her disappointment, however, by the sight of Henry walking across the room. The flexing of the muscles through the whole length of his back and his bum made her blush at the memory of what they felt like beneath her fingertips when they were together the night before. She wondered where he could be going, stark naked, when she saw him turn a corner and duck behind the curtain and then she realized that her husband was in the privy. Well, she thought sitting up and stretching, better than at the bedside.

As she stretched, she realized she did feel a little bit sore from the night before. Although the pain had gone away quickly while he was inside her, there was still something left. She lifted the sheets, dreading what her husband might see if he looked. There was the telltale pink hew on the sheets, and not all of it in one place. She cringed to see it, although she knew that if it wasn’t there it would be worse. She noticed also, that the skin on the inner most thigh, closest to her center, felt a bit tight. She ran her fingers over the tender area and realized that something had dried on her skin. She bit her lip, unsure if it was him or her. She looked at the sheets more closely and she could see places where it had been wettened and was now dry and felt rougher to the touch. My, she thought, straightening out the bed clothes so that he might not notice, her husband’s demands were messy. So be it. 

She only had those quick seconds before he was finished and back. He walked to the bowl and pitcher on the table and quickly splashed his face. Now she could see all of him as he washed and dried and she was surprised to see him in his natural state. He still looked impressive to her, although not nearly as overwhelming as when she had last taken the time to look closely. She was fascinated by this part that she did not have. She wanted to know how it worked, how to please him, how to do things that surprised and delighted him. She smiled at the thought of it and looked away as he finished gargling some water and spit into the basin.

He smiled at her as he came back around the bed and she tried her best not to watch his body as he moved. He was watching her closely and she noticed that he was beginning to grow again and she averted her gaze. She wanted him like that, his body pressed against hers and inside of hers, but she still felt her cheeks burn at the sight of him.

He slid back into bed with her with a sly smile across his face. If the state of the sheets bothered him, he made no indication to her. As he slid his hand across her stomach and grabbed her hip, she realized he had no reservations about touching her anymore. She was his wife, he would do what he wanted. But he pulled her onto her side, cuddled tight against his chest, his eyes searching hers, and he only seemed to relax when she slid her hand around his waist and up his back.

His eyes continued to watch her, and she couldn’t hold his gaze while she was so unsure of what he was looking for. Then she felt him lean forward and his lips pressed against her forehead and then her cheek. Again, without thought, she leaned into him, pressing herself into his chest, and she could feel him growing harder and twitch against her thigh. He likes it when I touch him, she thought to herself, when I open myself to him. And so she scooted closer, pressing the growing part of him against her belly and he sighed at the warmth of her body. His arm grew tighter around her, holding her closer to him, and his lips descended on hers in a small, tugging kiss. He withdrew only enough to hold a breath between them.

“Did my lady enjoy herself?” he whispered, his fingers trailing up and down her back. She dropped her head to his shoulder, embarrassed by his question, and unsure how she should answer. She felt him nuzzle her ear, leaving a small kiss behind. “Did I make you happy?” he asked, his voice still quiet and a bit unsure.

She smiled to herself, because she thought that he should know. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before and she clearly enjoyed it. That she could easily say, so she lifted her head so he could see her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered back, rubbing his back softly as if to assure him. “Yes you made me happy,” she smiled slightly, “you make me happy.” 

He returned her smile with relief and he look so pleased with himself she thought him to be the most adorable man she’d ever seen. She giggled quickly before leaning forwarding and pressing a kiss to his lips. She had meant for it to be only a quick kiss of affection. She would not be so bold as to insinuate to him that it should be more, but he caught her quickly and held her to him. She felt his tongue push gently against her lips and she opened her mouth for him the way he seemed to like. He groaned into her mouth, his kisses turning deeper and wetter and she felt him harden considerably against her stomach. 

There was something about being with Henry like this that made her lose her senses. She forgot to consider her actions, to restrain herself, to disappear like she had been taught. Instead she moved towards him and she knew that her body was asking for more, even if she could bring herself to say it. Her leg lifted, wrapping around his waist and pulling his hot flesh in between her thighs. They both shuddered as it ran the length of her folds. She could feel her wetness growing again as his kisses moved down her jaw and to her throat. 

Suddenly he paused and pulled back from her, looking into her eyes and pushing her hair from her face. “Kate,” he said, his voice turning serious and earnest, “I am a king and you are a queen and we have responsibilities to people. We have to make sons and daughters for England and France.”

She nodded seriously, but her fingers crept into the curling hair around his neck, wanting to feel closer to him as he spoke. She tugged softly, bringing his head closer to hers and he smiled.

“We have to make sons and daughters,” he repeated, “but I want you to know that I will always try to be like this with you. Like we have been so far.” She nodded in response, unsure of what exactly he was trying to say. He searched her eyes and she knew that he knew that he wasn’t making his point.

“What I mean,” he said, his hand moving softly down her body, “is that I always want to make you happy.” She smiled at him and was about to repeat her earlier declaration, when she felt his warm, strong fingers slip into her folds and he quickly found that place again that he had discovered last night. She gasped lightly as his finger dipped down to her entrance, moving softly to gather a bit of her seeping desire, before he brought it back up to circle that spot gently. “I always want to make you happy,” he exhaled against her as she gasped and clung to his shoulder. His touch there was all she needed to want him moving inside of her again. Her king, she thought, was very wise.

She knew that he could feel her desire and he didn’t wait for her response. His lips trailed down her throat and across her collarbone. She felt him shift down on the bed and again his mouth attached to her breast, sucking gently as his fingers moved against her. His tongue and his fingers touched her with the same rhythm and in mere minutes, she was writhing against his hand. Her mind was starting to forget that this was supposed to be for her husband; she was starting to forget that she was supposed to be quiet and passive. She grabbed his hair and held him tight against her breast. She moaned his name louder than anything she had said to him since she said ‘yes’ when the priest asked her to consent to marrying him. The sound of his name dripping with her desire must have distracted him because he paused just long enough for her to reach her hand between them and find his length. He groaned as she wrapped him in her palm, his fingers pulling away from her folds and grasping her hip as his kisses to her breasts turned into hot pants. She bit her lip at the memory of him pushing into her last night. She trailed her fingers over him, feeling the length and the girth, still surprised he had managed to fit inside of her and that it felt so good.

“Henry,” she sighed, her voice almost a squeak of desire, “I want to make you happy too.” He lifted his head to look at her and she let him go, turning on her back and spreading her legs. He shifted slightly, not following her immediately. She thought he would understand what she was inviting him to do. She wanted him inside her, filling her up and making her body do things she didn’t know how to do to herself. But he watched her, although his face didn’t seem confused. He seemed to be more relieved than anything. So she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. “Husband,” she whispered, pulling on the auburn tendrils gently, “come to me. Did you not say that the queen could have her fun?”


End file.
